


Gods and Monsters

by whimsicalmuse



Category: The Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Death, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-08-23
Updated: 2004-08-23
Packaged: 2018-08-07 20:37:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7728886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whimsicalmuse/pseuds/whimsicalmuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He didn?t even know their names.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gods and Monsters

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Shirasade: this story was originally archived at the [Monaboyd.net Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Monaboyd.net), which was closed in September 2014 due to software issues and a lack of new submissions for several years. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in October 2014. I e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact me using the e-mail address on the [Monaboyd.net Archive collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Monaboyd_Archive/profile).

He didn’t even know their names.

He’d see their faces in a crowded room. They were ghosts from his past, faces in soft focus reminding him of the lives he’d taken.

Sometimes he wondered about the lives they lived before he came like a thief in the night and took their breath away, but he never dwelled on the wondering for too long.

They didn’t pay him to think.

They paid him to do his job.

His last job took him to Los Angeles, on a long flight on a plane with shite scotch and musty bodies. It was bitter cold in London when he left clutching his plain white envelop with his assignment, along with money and a new passport. But once he arrived in sunny southern California, he was doomed to stand in the miserable custom’s line gritting his teeth as tourists pawed their way past the checkpoint and into their vacation.

His leather jacket was sticking to his arms. He hated that.

“What is the purpose of your trip, Mr….Wallace?”

Billy smiled. Oh, the cliché.

I’m here on international business to kill a maverick young scientist named Dominic Monaghan.

“I’m here for leisure, sir. I want fun and sun. I need a tan, don’t you think?”

Mr. Customs eyed his pasty neck, as he stamped his entry approval.

“I’d be inclined to agree. Enjoy your trip.”

The passport was handed back, and he was free to roam the streets of LA.

Shark smile still on his face, he fell into the cracks of the city.  
*

As a rule Billy never bothered to know anything about his target before a hit.

In fact, learning anything about your assignment beyond the face and deadline for executing the hit was discouraged. The consortium understood that their employees were no different than any one else. Billy and his associates could indeed feel guilt, affection, or even worse, attachment, for their assignment, if given time. They were no monsters.

They only did monstrous deeds.

However, for this assignment, Billy was pushed into a space he wasn’t wholly comfortable with, by pure chance.

During his first trip to the subject’s house to perform basic reconnaissance, he made a rather irritating discovery.

Dominic Monaghan was never alone.

For three days Billy watched him leave and enter his house, hoping the deed could be done quickly and quietly as Dominic was departing one evening, but it never happened because for three days and three nights Dominic had been trailed by a pale faced kid with starry eyes.

And to his intense surprise, on the third day Billy was unsettled for varied reasons, and he found himself unable to determine which emotion had a stronger grip on his stomach.

Was it the mounting irritation because Dom was just so hard to kill?

Was it the moony looks the pale face kid gave Dominic all the time?

Or, was the fluttery feeling Billy got when Dominic looked in his direction on the third morning?

He wasn’t sure, but he had an even explanation for each feeling.

He was pissed because the longer he took to kill Dom the longer he had to stay in LA and he fucking hated LA.

He was irritated because only poofs make moony eyes at men, especially men with crooked jaws, and while it was okay to be a poof, to behave like a poof was simply unforgivable.

And finally, while this Dominic was an interesting looking lad, Billy was by no means interested in him beyond a detached level. The only reason his stomach jumped was from surprise.

Should Dominic make contact with him, his cover would be blown, and that would mean killing Dominic on contact, stealth be damned.

That would be messy, and the paperwork would be hell.

Once all the messy emotions had been sorted and stuffed, Billy chewed on his thumb until it bled, and sighed with the resignation of a doomed man.

If he wanted to kill Dominic, he’d have to know more about him, so he might wait for the perfect time.

Furthermore, news had been delivered by the consortium.

They wanted information about Mr. Monaghan before he died.

Details were as usual dim, but Billy was expressly ordered to document the man’s progression with his experiment.

This requirement led to yet another problem: how would he gain entry to Dominic’s studies?  
*

 

Consultation with the Consortium led to Billy getting a bit of help—a move that surprised him.

The need to send out two agents meant this Monaghan fellow was high profile, and Bill felt a pang of pride in knowing they had trusted him enough to execute…this…Dom.

Of course, he also felt a bit inadequate knowing he had asked them for help, but only a jot.

His area of expertise was in killing a man with a rifle from a two buildings away shooting from a hole the size of a quarter.

He hadn’t been trained in the ways of espionage and disguise.

So, twenty-four hours from the last correspondence with the consortium two agents arrived, looking just as hot and shocked by the April heat of Los Angeles as Bill was, and Bill made a small mental note of satisfaction.

Then he debriefed the pair on the assignment.

The trio moved fast, with “Orlando” making short work of obtaining the identity of the person said to be transferring into Dominic’s lab, while “Miranda” took on her new job as a bartender at the pub Billy had discovered Dominic frequented.

Billy meanwhile, reclined in his rented Impala and vacillated between smoking American fags and listening to opera. He liked opera because the music and power of a diva’s voice was surprisingly calming, and if he wanted to be fully honest, made him feel like he was living out a scene from The Godfather.

The gangster life of the Italian mafia was far more romantic than his solitude. At least they had family.

Billy hadn’t seen the last living Boyds in over 2 years.

He was sure they stopped calling for him, which was rather sad really.

As usual, Dominic slithered out of his house for an early morning jog—alone this time and by the time Billy registered what was happening, Elijah emerged, pulling on a sweatshirt and running to catch up with Dom.

Billy pounded his fist into the steering wheel and cursed.

He’d missed the first chance in five days.

He was angry, but not overmuch. He was logical enough to know the pieces had been set with Miranda and Orlando here and in position--he need only wait his turn.

But that still wasn’t enough to make Billy go back to his hotel. He rather liked it on the corner watching another man live his life. Finding no other options, he spent his Friday becoming a part of the Impala’s chair, until the Opera played out, and his fags were all gone.  
*

 

It was the devil that made Billy morbidly fascinated with going to watch the agents in action, as by doing so, he was putting himself at a great risk for exposure.

Still, were he to be fully honest with himself, he’d played with the want to enter the seedy pub for days, from the first night he followed Dominic there—he just never had a good excuse to go in.

But now he did.

The agents might allow for a moment, in which Billy could do the deed, and if they did, he’d be ready.

Besides, for all he knew this Dominic fellow might be some brand of self defense genius, in which case Billy would need to come to their aid.

Though the action was a risk, Bill was no fool. He’d arrived during an earlier rush and fell into the shadows, waiting patiently for his man to arrive. With Miranda bartending, he was able to nick a decent Scotch out of the deal—not too much, just a little something to take the edge off.

Of course, part of him wondered when the edge came, as he’d never had this tension before, but by the time he was introspective, he was too pissed to care, and furthermore he had business to tend to.

Dominic had just arrived.

He swaggered in all loose hipbones and crooked smiles, tailed as usual by the pale-faced bloke Orlando had found was named Elijah. He was truly a regular, and had a few friends here to chat up, and all his mates took notice of the one thing Billy was in on: Dom had also arrived with Orlando.

Much debate had existed between the trio over what Mr. Monaghan’s preference was, and in the end they gave credence to Billy’s steady assertion that Dominic Monaghan was indeed of a persuasion he was all too familiar with.

Orlando was prepped, and promised to have the man in bed and spilling secrets by the next morning.

As Billy chased his third (or forth?) scotch with a heady swig of Guinness, he silently remarked that Orlando’s promise hadn’t been bragging, he was indeed quite skilled at pulling a man.

Elijah must have felt out of the loop, because he slithered onto a stool in the corner by the jukebox, and after what appeared to be hardly any prodding at all, began what was sure to be his sob story to Miranda.

A laugh bubbled just below Billy’s throat at the ease in which this plan was been executed but then Dominic turned suddenly, as if he felt Billy’s gaze, and with a startling accuracy, found Bill’s eyes in the crowd, and met them.

Orlando turned, noticing the man’s distraction, and most likely asked what Dominic was looking at, but Dominic never got a chance to explain. As soon as a visual had been made, Billy fell into the crowd, disappearing in a sea of trendy tee shirts and pale faces, so well that Billy was sure Dominic wondered if he saw anything at all.

Billy made note to take better care in the future.

That had been too close.  
*

 

“So what have we got here?”

Orlando seemed to collect his thoughts as he slid off his leather jacket, which was still fragrant with a smell Billy could not identify, but suspected was Dominic.

“The plan worked like a charm, mate. He was bedded and spilling by three am.”

At this Orlando smiled a 1000-watt grin, and Billy fought the urge to wrinkle his nose.

Sure the man was pretty, but Billy found he rather preferred an imperfect smile in a man.

“And you, love?” Billy asked of Miranda, who too was getting herself comfortable.

“Elijah’s in love with Dominic.”

Both Billy and Orlando laughed.

“I could have told you that, and I’ve never spoken with either of them.”

“No, but the plot thickens. It seems he and Dom has a special arrangement. Dominic knows that Elijah’s in love with him—has shagged him four times—but tells Elijah he’s not interested in a relationship right now.”

And then Billy felt a pang of empathy for Elijah. If Billy wasn’t such loner he might have fallen in love with someone, and how sad to have the freedom to love, and have the chance wasted on someone that didn’t return the sentiment.

Billy spoke again.

“While all of this is fascinating, what did you learn of Dominic’s project?”

Miranda and Orlando exchanged glances.

“Am I not supposed to know?”

“Well,” Orlando began hesitantly. “No, but we thought your people didn’t generally like to learn much about your assignments.”

Billy licked his lips.

“Well, I don’t, per se, and if the Consortium had ordered you to report the data back to them, then there really isn’t a need for me to know about his project.”

Miranda smiled. “They have relieved you of the requirement to report the findings back to them. You simply have to wait until we give the order to terminate.”

“Right.”

And with that they silently excused him so the two might compare notes.

Billy left without word.

Had he been functioning normally, he would have slipped back into his room, found the porn channel, and enjoyed a right good wank, entertaining the images of Orlando fucking Dom into the mattress. He could close his eyes while his callused palm grazed the curve of his cock, and hear the guttural mewls Dom was sure to make, as Orlando parted his thighs, dugs his fingers into the wells of the slim man’s hips, and snapped into Dom with a controlled fury.

However, Billy had other plans, and he reminded his cock of this once he returned to the room.

He would not wank (again) to the image of someone (often Billy) fucking Dom. He would instead utilize the surveillance equipment he’d planted into their room while the two were out being the good spies.

And as he turned on the listening device he snickered at the irony of two spies being spied on by the inexperienced hit man.

“So, what did you learn of his energy project?” That was Miranda.

“The man’s a bloody genius, Mira. He’s fucking around with alternative sources of energy, by manipulating atoms.”

“Atoms?”

“Atoms. He rambled for a solid thirty minutes about energy being all around us and there being no need for pollution and what not.”

“Wow.”

Billy silently agreed. He’d never been assigned to kill a genius…well, not that he knew of.

“Yeah. Too bad he’s going to be a stiff soon. I wonder what he did to piss them off.”

“Turns out, Elijah is partly to blame.”

“Oh?”

Billy knew there was a reason he didn’t like Elijah.

“The kid’s a hacker, and he slipped into their network one night from Dom’s lab.”

“Shite.”

“They know someone tagged them, but what they don’t know is that Elijah hadn’t found enough to warrant the hit. They were thinking of simply erasing all data.”

“So what changed?”

“They sent intelligence in to take a look, and when they found what Dominic was doing…how close he was to succeeding, they realized he’d have to be stopped with terminal velocity.”

Billy’s hands fell from his earphones. He was to kill a man that might not have ever died, were it not for the curiosity of his friend. He felt sick to his stomach.

“…And he’ll have to be taken care of before this presentation in Washington, Orlando. That’s why we have to make the man vulnerable to Billy.”

The device was snapped off; he knew the rest well enough. They would hunt Elijah and Dom, divide and conquer, and in the shadows of the night, Billy would have to finish the job.

He tsked bitterly around the mouth of his bottle.

They always left the monsters to clean up the mess.  
*

 

They delivered the deadline to him the following morning, and Billy casually accepted. He had three days to execute the plan, and Miranda and Orlando would personally see to it that Billy had Dom alone to do his job.

The problem was, once Billy was indeed alone to watch Dom, he found himself hesitating.

He watched him at the university lab; bespectacled and giving the data on the computer his full attention—something Billy was sure the man wasn’t inclined to do unless really interested.

From what he had seen of Dom the man was full of frenetic energy at all times, always moving some part of his body in search of the next interest. Billy found he rather appreciated watching Dom be completely still and then felt a pang of…something, knowing he would be the man to end it all.

He watched Dom in his house as the man scuffed through his rooms, his pajama pants slung low on his hips. He watched as he munched on take away and still read reports from school, his glasses still low on the bridge of his bulbous nose. Sometimes, Dom would give into the bumblebees that seemed to buzz under his skin and leap suddenly into a bout of exercise around the house, but usually Dom was surprisingly calm at home. He seemed to have a lot to think about and often was seen sitting in his favorite chair on the patio, staring out into the view of the city.

The second day Billy trailed Dom to Molly Malone’s again—the hole in a wall dive the man was so comfortable with, and guided perhaps by the desperate rush in his chest, Billy dared to go into the pub and chance a closer look, knowing he would be under the watchful eyes of Miranda.

It was a Friday night—a popular day for the establishment as up and coming bands would have a chance for their 9 minutes of stage time, hoping some drunk in the audience would be the person to launch them into the world of fame. The pub itself was all but bursting at the seams, and by 12:30 – between the pandemonium of the suck bands and the jabber of the patrons – the noise inside was almost deafening. And while Billy detested the noise – it hurt his small ears – he was pleased to be able to have plenty of body cover to slither in and chance a closer look at Dom one last time before he had to execute his task.

And boy was Dom aglow that night.

He touched all his friends warmly, danced playfully to every song on the jukebox, and drank until his cheeks were as rosy as St. Nick’s. And while Billy still maintained the man wasn’t pretty, not like Orlando or even Elijah, he thought that the life in him, the fierce spirit, was something almost tangible, and a beautiful thing to behold.

The scotch riled in his stomach, his tongue grew heavy, and he found himself staggering to the back exit for some air. He had just reached the door, when long fingers curled around his arm, stopping them.

He didn’t have to turn around to know who it was.

“Can I help you?”

Dominic smiled, his eyes telling Billy that he wasn’t quite as drunk as his cheeks suggested, and a stone dropped in Bill’s stomach.

Shite.

This was not going to be good.

And it wasn’t because Dom seemed to savor the hold he had on Billy, which was so public and far too risky. And then the man leaned in, until his stubble scratched Bill’s cheek, and spoke into Billy’s ear, his wet hot breath making Bill’s stomach clench.

“I know what you do.”

Billy’s eyes must have widened because Dominic smiled cheekily, and now in full assassin mode, Billy snatched at the fist part of Dom he could get a hold of, and pulled the man roughly outside.

The metal door clanged back into place so loudly things scampered away from the dumpsters and three houses down a baby began to cry. But Billy couldn’t really care.

All he knew was that he was face to face with his assignment, close—too close really—with his fingers knotted into Dom’s belt loops.

“You said you think you know what I do?”

Dominic nodded.

“Yeah? And what do you think I do?”

“You watch me,” Dominic breathed, and then stared down the alley. “You’ve been watching me for weeks and I know why.”

Billy swallowed, still unable to pull himself away from the heat that was rolling from Dom.

“Why?”

Dom turned back to him, his eyes slate grey and wet. “You’ve been sent to kill me.”

A car came to a screeching halt out of Fairfax, much like the beat of Billy’s heart, and he pulled away from Dom roughly.

“How do you know it’s true?”

“You’ve done nothing to deny it. I know what I’ve done. I know that what I’ve done has come to the attention of people—people I would not have liked to have known.”

“What do you want from me, Dominic? Why approach a man you think is trying to kill you?”

Dom lowered his lashes.

“Because I’d seen you before I knew, and I-“

Billy felt his ears flush. “You’d seen me?”

“I saw you watching me outside the pub, and I thought maybe you were too shy to approach me. Once I realized who you were, I thought I’d see what you were really about. If you are a hit man, you’re the pussiest hit man I’d ever seen. I thought you were supposed to be rough and-“

The challenge wasn’t lost to Bill.

He has a death wish he realized, one he would gladly fulfill within one day’s time at the rate things were going. He knew he couldn’t do the job here, not with so many witnesses, but he’d get the job done.

Still, there was no reason not to teach the lad a good lesson on caution, and common sense, and with that, Billy snatched out his glock, spun Dom’s arm behind his back, and pressed the man against the pissy brick wall. His nostrils flared, and his pulse quickened, as he was surprised to discover the hot press of Dom’s cock into his hip.

Perhaps when Billy twisted his arm, he thought Bill was up for a rough fuck in an alley.

The thought was almost enough to make Billy smirk, but he hid that by biting out sharp words.

“You thought I was a pussy assassin eh? And what is an assassin supposed to do hmm?”

He pressed the barrel to Dom’s temple knowing the metal would be warm but would send a chill down Dom’s spine.

He fingered the trigger.

“Am I supposed to use this gun and blow your fucking brains onto this brick wall? Hmm? Am I supposed to tie something in your mouth so you don’t scream, don’t call your friends to help you, as I beat the shite out of you until you cough blood? And then drag your sorry arse someplace dark and secluded, where they won’t find your body? Is that what I’m supposed to do?”

Dominic’s eyes flitted over to the door, and Billy felt the rush of adrenaline bottom out. The impact of knowing he’d been the one to rile such genuine fear in Dom was too much, too confusing, and Billy felt the irrational need to somehow make up for showing him the monster within.

“Maybe I’m not an assassin.” He murmured. “Maybe I’m a sick fuck who’s infatuated with you.”

The truth struck too close to home—terrified him—but he pushed on.

“Maybe I’d been waiting for you to come to me, so I could show you that if you just let me,” He trailed his hands down the front of Dom’s shirt, his nails brushing the flat plane of Dom’s belly underneath. “If you wanted, I’d get you off so good so hard, you’d never walk away from me.”

His fingers scratched at Dom’s zipper, and Dom whimpered against his hand, Billy silently wondering when he had even clamped his hand down over Dom’s mouth in the first place.

“Who do you think I am?”

He found himself rubbing small circles into the small of Dom’s back.

He pulled his hands away, digging his nails into the collar of Dom’s tee shirt.

“I think you’re a bit of both, perhaps.” Dom rasped, his eyes a dark kaleidoscope in the street light.

“And what do you want from me?”

_Everything._

“Your name.”

Billy let the crooked smile out, and opened his lips to speak, but he heard footsteps then—probably the agents, and knew he had to disappear. Should they know his cover was blown his life would be forfeit.

He pushed away from Dominic roughly, pushing so hard Dominic’s back connected solidly with the brick and the drunken man slid down onto his heels, panting.

The back door swung open just as Billy fell into the shadows, and he listened as it was indeed Miranda, in the guise of a bartender, checking on Dom and no doubt shocked to discover he was still alive.  
*

 

When Billy returned to his hotel he found that Orlando and Miranda had disappeared, no doubt sharing their little secrets to the Consortium—and setting him up.

He knew he’d been sloppy—too sloppy—and while he wanted to blame the ale, he knew better. He’d fucked up from day one with Monaghan, and he knew with a startling certainty that’d he’d pay for his mistake.

Possibly with his life.

The clock ticked on, the minutes on the timer he set on his watch whittling away to nothing, down to zero, until the alarm went off, and he knew he’d have to go and do it already.

He took a last swig of his drink—vodka and orange juice this time since he’d depleted the shit mini bar’s supply of scotch—and stumbled up from the bed on watery legs, out the door.

He’d put on his suit—the death suit as he called it—a classic black suit just like from the movies. The gun bounced against his ribs, which where sore for some reason, and he rubbed the spot absentmindedly, silently wishing the day would be over with and he could be off duty for a spell, so he wouldn’t have to wear the damned holster.

A small voice told him he’d never know what it felt like to not wear his gun ever again, but he decided that was nerves talking, and pulled into a spot across the street from Dom’s house.

He waited for nightfall.

He had first worried Dom would try to run for it, but he rationalized that Dom was a smart man, smart enough to know that running would do nothing to dissolve his death sentences, and in the end, Bill was sure Dom would much rather have someone with a shred of compassion, like Billy, do the deed, instead of the second line of attack.

Those people made Billy’s team look like fucking angels.

When Dom snapped his light off, Billy got out of the car, slipping across the street and into Dom’s place with relative ease, careful not to make a sound in the silence of the night.

He found Dom sitting on his bed, waiting for him, with a look so resigned and so brave, Billy had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from declaring the hit a failure, and begging Dom to run away as a fugitive with him.

He fancied for a second that he could protect Dom if he wanted to.

Then reality set in.

He should know better.

Dom was silent through it all, he lowered his face, his fists balled up nervously, and Billy cocked the gun, a cold sweat breaking out over his face, as he hesitated pulling the trigger.

He couldn’t should him this way. Not with the haunting image of the man’s eyes just a breath away from his fingertips.

“Turn around,” he growled, and lowered his gun.

“What?” Dom looked up confused. His eyes were wide with fear, and some indistinguishable emotion.

Indistinguishable until Billy saw the reflection of a man in Dom’s eyes and when he turned around met Elijah’s fist as it connected with his face.

Elijah cried out in pain. He’d probably broken some fingers.

He nearly broke Billy’s jaw.

Billy spat onto the carpet, and then grimaced as his fist connected with Elijah, silently cursing the shite luck he’d had lately.

There was no way he’d come out of this whole.

The hit was botched.

Elijah was an easy man to disarm and subdue, but before Billy could contemplate who to kill first Miranda and Orlando arrived, armed and ready to clean up the mess.

“You fucked this up,” Miranda snarled, as she pulled Elijah up from the bed, and made to take him into another room.

Billy knew she’d make him bend his neck, and then he’d hear the solid thump as the bullet would tear from the silenced gun, and connect with the back of his neck.

Billy might have been resigned to Elijah’s fate but Elijah wasn’t, and he rammed into Miranda at the last moment, somehow managing to grasp the gun with his bound hands, and fire a hole into the square of Miranda’s chest.

She fell to the ground with a shocked expression still frozen on her face.

Orlando cried out, loose cannon now that he was angry, and without a blink raised his gun and shot Elijah squarely between the eyes.

The kid landed aside the bed, and Dominic screamed around the duct tape that covered his mouth.

“Can you handle him?” Orlando panted, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “If I hurry I might be able to get her-“

“She’s dead, Orlando.” Billy lowered his eyes. “You know we can’t seek medical attention,” he added softly.

Orlando nodded.

Billy raised his gun, leveling it in front of Dominic’s head once again, trembling as he found himself once again unable to pull the trigger.

Dominic never had a chance to turn around.

“You can’t do it,” Orlando realized, and snatched out his gun again, ever ready to finish the job. “Jesus, his friend killed Miranda—all of this is because of him—and you can’t kill him! When They find out about this—“

But he had nothing else to say.

Billy might have had a problem killing Dominic, but he had no problem pulling the trigger when it was facing Orlando.

Dominic choked against the tape.

Billy strode across the room, fingers numb and trembling, and pulled back the tape, wincing as Dom cried out in pain.

“M’sorry,” Billy whispered, caressing the scratchy skin, and daring the place a whisper of a kiss against the man’s damp lips.

To his surprise Dominic leaned against him.

He hesitated for a few beats, closing his eyes and feeling the solid press of the man’s body against his.

The gesture was warm—and so normal, and were it not for the gurgling noises coming from three other bodies in the room, Bill could almost imagine he was living a scene from an ideal life he never lived.

“M’sorry,” He mumbled again, rubbing his hands down the sides of Dom’s arms and neck, as he stood up.

Dominic nodded, sniffing and choking around his sobs, and crouched, face first on the bed.

Billy wiped away the wetness from his eyes, and cocked the gun.

His finger rested on the trigger, as he focused to block out the soft sounds of the man’s weeping until he could hear nothing but the roar of his own blood in his ears.

He was so efficient he didn’t even hear his own gun go off.

He did however see when Dominic’s body slumped, a trail of blood pouring from the back of his neck.

He let out a soft exhausted whimper at last.

Before he could contemplate his next thought, he heard the snick of a doorknob, and then felt the icy white hot tear of flesh as a bullet passed though his back, out his chest, landing somewhere in the depths of Dom’s mattress.

Pain flared up from his knees as he fell to the floor, and then slumped on his side panting heavily.

His assassins made short work of the clean up—as efficiently as he’d been himself—dragging away Miranda, Elijah, and then Orlando and Dom, without word or hesitation.

At last, the hovered above him, looking down with a pained look on their faces.

“A damn shame,” one man declared, his voice tinny to Bill’s ears. “He was damn good.”

Billy wanted to warn him not to think too hard, too much, as the Consortium didn’t pay him to think, they paid him to do his job, but the edges of the world were shriveling up like cracked leather, and Billy knew he wouldn’t be holding on for much longer.

The last thing he recalled was the face of the old man, as he grunted and hauled Billy away.

He blacked out a final thought in his mind: the man would never know his name.


End file.
